


As Unchanging as the Sea

by natascha_ronin



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, cs smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 17:13:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9559118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natascha_ronin/pseuds/natascha_ronin
Summary: This is a bit explicit. Sorry if that's offensive.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit explicit. Sorry if that's offensive.

(Accompanied by: _Night on the Island_ by Pablo Neruda)

_All night I have slept with you_  
_next to the sea, on the island._  
_Wild and sweet you were between pleasure and sleep,_  
_between fire and water._

With birdsong, they wake. Two lovers twisted, snarled hair, blankets messy heaps over the large bed. There’s a chill in the air; the fireplace is still unlit. Emma huddles closer to the warmth of his body, the soft flesh of her buttocks meeting the concave rigidity of his hips. The firm staff of his cock nestles next to her tailbone, and he shifts to rut it.

Their skin is dry from the chill in the air, from the night that took and gave secret lovers a moment to collect droplets of memory. The memories they’ll feast on in the months to come. For now, he turns his face into her hair, inhales rose water and mint mixed with soft sweat from their shared moment. He wraps his arm tightly around her, hand splaying over her sternum, pulling her close as he hums in repose. 

_I have slept with you_  
_all night long while_  
_the dark earth spins_  
_with the living and the dead,_  
_and on waking suddenly_  
_in the midst of the shadow_  
_my arm encircled your waist._

He moves his hand from under her pillow to pull the swath of hair billowed around them. Exposing her neck, he rubs his stubble over her skin; being mindful of the night before, kissing softly, tongue reaching out to flick at her earlobe. She responds by reaching back, eyes still closed, to run her nails over his scalp, gently tugging on his hair: _more._

She commits to memory the remnants of the dream trickling out of her consciousness, of twining limbs and glasses and trumpets announcing matrimony. It was a harbor of refuge in the tempest of emotion she’s felt over the last few days, dreams giving hope to an unwelcoming ache of loss and longing. She pines with lust and desire, he with brooding and drink. His dreams are fraught with sword fighting and gunpowder, the living and the dead; she hears his murmuring and whispering in the night. 

_Neither night nor sleep_  
_could separate us._

He enters her just like this; he wants her like this, supple and yielding. Her soft hiss of delight at his depth drowns out the cries of finality in her mind. She can’t think that way, cannot buy memories with that currency, the echo of fate and disaster that plagues these last moments. It’s too late; a tear has escaped and she quickly wipes it away. 

_I have slept with you_  
_and on waking, your mouth,_  
_come from your dream,_  
_gave me the taste of earth,_  
_of sea water, of seaweed,_  
_of the depths of your life,_  
_and I received your kiss_  
_moistened by the dawn_  
_as if it came to me_  
_from the sea that surrounds us._

They move, him over her with soft shadows lining his face, her eyes closed against the dark circles lining his. If she suspends this moment in her consciousness, she can almost forget, but at the last moment, he hesitates. The head of his cock, wet and slippery against her folds, suspended there. Both of them know that if he enters her now, he’ll have to pull away. 

He sinks into her like a rush of seafoam against the cliffs, fast and climbing, up, up, up, taking her high and rough. Her mouth opens on a gasp and he takes it, too, marking her skin with his beard. His ship is lost in her oceans, drowning and sucking bottomless whirlpools of dark fathoms, until at last they crash like the tide, wave upon wave against yielding sand. 

She clings to him in the aftermath, fingers tracing his jaw, his lips, as he pants into her neck. Soft pink light joins the birdsong on the balcony he came to her from. Tears erupt from her eyes, tickling her cheeks and falling into her ears. In a few moments, he’ll have to leave. 

So, these few moments are all that she commits to remembrance, these precious breaths between them, the soft staccato of his heart against hers, sweat-slicked skin under down and fine satin. Here, she isn’t Crown Princess Emma of Misthaven; he isn’t Captain Killian Jones of the Royal Navy. Their love isn’t secret; it blooms between them.

“Not a day will go by that I won’t think of you,” he whispers.

She smiles in spite of herself, but still she whispers. "What's a few months when we have eternal love?" 

He shifts, looking earnestly into her eyes, "Emma, you have to listen to me, you have to remem--"

"Shh." She covers his lips with her fingers, tears streaming, and she sobs. "I will."

 _I love you._

_I know._

Their goodbye is heartfelt here. There, beyond the trellis and castle walls, goodbye must be formal and friendly. A pomp deployment ceremony isn’t the time to reveal them. When Captain Jones returns from his voyage, when the Dark One is defeated, his heroism will earn her hand. His steadfast love has won her heart.

Until then, she waits on the cliffs of Misthaven, dresses of lace and silk billowing in the breeze, for his return.


End file.
